


Did You See the Rainbow?

by HamHamHeaven



Series: Greyscale [5]
Category: Der Zibet (Band), Jrock, Kaya (Musician), Schwarz Stein
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colorblind Soulmate AU, Issay (Der Zibet) Speaks French, Light Angst, MTF Transgender Character, Other, Pansexual Issay (Der Zibet), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Transgender Kaya (Schwarz Stein), Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-08 09:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamHamHeaven/pseuds/HamHamHeaven
Summary: After only three months back in Japan, Issay is feeling surprisingly homesick and out of place.  That is, until he meets his soulmate.  Love, like sakura, will bloom in springtime.





	1. Isn't It Romantic?

**Author's Note:**

> My January fill for the DW VKYaoi community challenge, using moodboard #1 [Spring](https://vkyaoi.tumblr.com/private/179802876960/tumblr_phqs37JyNz1x3atgk) and quote #18 Matenrou Opera "Freesia":  
> Innocent actions dye your cheeks  
> Pure white petals  
> I was enchanted by those honest eyes
> 
> Time stamp for this is 2002. It's a prequel to [Kaleidoscope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449272), but familiarity with that isn't necessary. Story title is from a track on Der Zibet's 1988 album: 虹を見たか

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they dance to, and incidentally the chapter title, is Ella Fitzgerald's version of [Isn’t it Romantic](https://youtu.be/5YMt30gnR4g).

“It must be such a relief to you being home.”

“Yes, _such_ a relief.  How are you finding the city after being so long away?  Wonderful, I’m sure.”

Issay hardly has a chance to smile and nod before his employer’s wife and sister, Ueno-san and Imai-san respectively, plunge into another vigorous discourse on Japan’s numerous virtues and superiorities to anything Europe could _ever_ offer.  It’s just as well he can’t get a word in edgewise, since he’s feeling particularly homesick at the moment.

Odd, really, as he never quite thought of Paris as “home” before, even after more than a decade living there.  He has always referred to Shizuoka as “home” to his European friends.  But after only three months back in his native land, he’s stared to recognize how little he fits into the Japanese landscape anymore.

Never has he felt more French than he does today, sitting through the wedding of his employer’s eldest son: a young man eight years Issay’s junior.  Everything about the event – the ceremony, reception, clothing, decorations, even the food – has been a stylish fusion of “East meets West” designed to impress upon the new in-laws (and several prominent investors) how much prosperity Ueno Imports has been enjoying recently.  Yet, the formality of it all has engulfed Issay in a wistfulness for the carefree ease of European weddings he’s attended: be it a crowd of hundreds making merry in a sun-warmed Bordeaux vineyard or only the couple and their two witnesses kneeling at the altar of some great empty cathedral.

“…. Just need to find you a girl.  It’s shocking for a man of your age and position to still be single.”

Both of the old women are staring at him expectantly, and Issay can tell they are waiting for him to reply to whatever it is they’ve just said.  Unfortunately, he hasn’t been listening.

“I… I’m sure you’re right,” he declares, not in the least bit sure of anything.

His answer seems to satisfy Ueno-san, but Imai-san rolls her eyes.

“Just like a man to say that.  ‘Oh yes, Mother, I’ll find a respectable girl and settle down right away’ they exclaim… until the match-maker comes.  Why, just look at my boy!  At this rate, I’ll never have grandchildren.”

“Fujiwara-kun is much steadier than your Kenji, Chiyo,” Ueno-san defend.

Imai-san appears unconvinced.

“He had sense enough not to become tangled up with one of those _foreign_ girls, didn’t he?  Waited to return home and find himself a _proper_ wife.”

Issay doesn’t bother ruining Ueno-san’s favourable impression by telling her that he’s single due to unfortunate luck not any objection to foreigners.

“If he’s so sensible, Kachi,” Imai-san jibes, speaking of Issay as if he’s not there, “Why is he sitting her with _us_ rather than out dancing!”

She looks supremely triumphant when Ueno-san doesn’t have a ready answer.

The dance floor is one of the more surprising incorporations of Western culture, and only a few younger couples have utilized it thus far.  Issay isn’t sure whether that speaks more to no one knowing how to dance to the American jazz standards being played or to a fear of disapprobation by the older generations present.

“I don’t know any of the other guests and haven’t been properly introduced,” Issay explains modestly.  “I wouldn’t want to offend anyone by putting myself forward.”

“Nonsense!  Young people don’t stand upon ceremony these days.”

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m not sure any of the unattached young women here would appreciate being asked to dance by a middle-aged man.”

“Middle-aged my foot.  Why, you’re in the prime of life, Fujiwara-kun!  Look.  There’s a table of pretty girls over in that corner who would be simply _thrilled_ to be asked, I’m sure.”

Issay turns, his gaze following the direction her chubby, diamond-studded finger points, toward a round table near the back of the banquet hall.  A vivid swirl of colour suddenly fills his vision, and he stares in speechless admiration at his soulmate.  It’s a potentially perplexing situation, because there are five young women in close proximity, any of whom might have been The One.  There is no confusion for Issay, however.  Five there may be, but he sees only one: a refined beauty in a red floral kimono.

“Love, like sakura, will bloom in springtime,” quips Ueno-san sagely, noting his dumbfounded expression.

“Who is the lovely creature in the kimono?” he breathes.

“There are _three_ girls in kimono,” Imai-san smugly informs him.

“I don’t know any of them by name,” Ueno-san speaks over her sister-in-law, “But I believe that table was reserved for unmarried friends and female relations of the bride.”

“I…,” he hesitates.

“Go ask for a dance,” orders Ueno-san.  “Take advantage of your familiarity with Western customs.”

It amuses him that she assumes the polka is still common practice in Europe.  Nevertheless, it _is_ a perfect excuse to introduce himself to his destiny.  Why not!

“I-if you will both excuse me, I think I shall.”

~~~~

“I really think Nee-chan should have taken a headcount to make sure everyone would have a partner before agreeing to include dancing,” Sara pouts, staring wistfully at the two couples currently gliding across the floor.

Her friends nod in bitter agreement.  It seems supremely unfair to be offered the chance at dancing in _theory_ , only to have the opportunity snatched away by an unfavourable ratio of single men to single women.

“She couldn’t have known who would or wouldn’t want to dance,” her cousin Kaya tries to mollify.  “Brides don’t have that sort of control over their guests.”

Privately, Kaya feels just as envious as Sara, but she’s more accepting of her own plight.  After all, she’s gone home in tears from enough parties to know that even if there _were_ more young men available, no one would genuinely want to dance with _her_. 

“Just as well we’re not dancing,” grumbles Chiharu sourly.  “As slippery as the soles of these shoes are, I’d probably fall on my face trying to waltz.”

“I _told_ you that you should’ve….”

Their chatter comes to an abrupt halt.  Kaya rotates in her seat to see what the others are gaping at and finds that a slender man in an elegant frock coat and cravat has paused a few steps away from her chair.  Dark curling hair frames his high cheekbones and warm chocolate eyes.

Chocolate.  Something she’s never seen before.

_Is this real?  My soulmate!  At my cousin’s wedding.  This can’t possibly be real… can it?_

The stranger offers her a bow, more like the hero in a faerie tale genuflecting before a queen than a traditional Japanese bow.  Kaya can feel four pair of judgmental eyes watching her.

“Please forgive my forwardness, not waiting for a proper introduction,” he says.

His voice sends a warm ripple of excitement through her.

“My name is Fujiwara Issay; I am a business associate of the groom.  I hope you won’t think me rude for asking this, but… I wonder… may I have this dance?”

He holds out his hand toward her.  Kaya stares at the ruffle of burgundy lace at his cuff, then him, then at the extended hand again.  The heat rises in her cheeks.

_Is he serious?  Or is this just a cruel trick._

His smile falters slightly.  He can read the doubt clearly enough in her open countenance.

“Please, Mademoiselle?  Just one dance.”

Sara prods Kaya in the ribs, causing her to give a soft exclamation.

“Oh!  O-of course.”

She stands quickly, brushing away imaginary wrinkles from her sleeves.  She hasn’t quite worked up the courage to take his hand when suddenly, to her disappointment, he withdraws it, gesturing instead toward the dance floor.  Kaya gives Sara and her cousin’s friends one last nervous look before moving off at her soulmate’s side.

“Would it be impolite to ask your name?” he inquires as they weave their way through the seating area.

Kaya’s expressive eyes widen in astonishment.

“N-no, of course, how rude of me.  I should have said… m-my name’s Uryou… Ka-ya.  I’m pleased to meet you.”

If Issay notices the hesitation as she gives her name, he hides it well.

“I’m very pleased to meet you as well, Uryou-san.”

She ducks her head shyly.

“Y-you can call me Kaya… i-if you’d like… since we’re….”

She can’t quite bring herself to speak the word _soulmate_. The illusion might shatter if she does.  Issay understands.  The idea is still too fragile, too new.

“Kaya-hime,” he intones her name, revelling in the way it sounds. 

His slight accent has Kaya practically melting into a puddle.  All those sentimental stories about soulmates she’s taken to be exaggerations are turning out to be quite true.  A man _can_ turn a girl’s knees to jelly with a single word.  She wishes they were alone so that she could enjoy the feeling more fully, rather than worrying what everyone else in the room must be thinking of her.

 _Don’t be ridiculous,_ she chastises herself.  _It’s not as though anyone outside the family knows you.  Everyone else probably just thinks he’s taken pity on the pariahs.  He’s going to regret that he did in a minute._

“I… I’m afraid I… don’t really know how these sorts of dances go,” she apologizes timidly as they reach the edge of the cleared dance floor.

Her confession brings a smile to Issay’s thin lips.  He leans closer and murmurs in her ear:

“Confidentially, I’m not certain that I do either, but if we limit ourselves to swaying back and forth and turning in a circle, it should be all right, don’t you think?  I shall do my best not to step on your pretty toes.”

He sounds so serious that she can’t help but giggle.

“It’s fine if you do,” she assures him.  “I don’t particularly need them.”

He gives a low chuckle and steps out onto the polished wood.

“Now let me see.  I think you’re to put your left hand on my shoulder,” he posits, “And allow me to take you in mine… thus.”

He clasps her right hand gently in one of his own and settles the other lightly at her waist.  Issay can feel her trembling under his touch.

“Is it… unpleasant for you?” he asks in concern.

Her cheeks colour a lovely shade of pink, but she shakes her head.

“Not at all,” she replies, her voice so soft he can barely hear it above the first notes of the music.

“Now we step to the right,” he suggests, “And bring our feet together.  Then to the left… and the same.”

Their movements are slow and stiff at first, but after a few measures Kaya overcomes her uncertainty and relaxes into the gentle rhythm.  A woman’s low, clear voice purrs at them through the speakers; Kaya doesn’t understand much of the English, but she hears the word “romantic” over and over again: the perfect word to describe the mood of being held in her soulmate’s arms.

“Was Ueno-san correct in saying you’re a friend of the bride?” Issay inquires after a few moments’ silence.

“Hana’s a cousin,” explains Kaya.  “Our mothers were close friends, so the four of us – Hana, Sara, my younger sister, and I – grew up together.”

“Ah, how nice!  I haven’t any siblings, and my only cousin lives in Canada.”

“While you live here in Kobe,” she surmises.

“Only recently.  The last decade I’ve been living in Paris.  I work in the alcohol- importing division of the company, you see.”

Kaya’s eyes alight with interest.

“Paris?!  Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit Paris.  Is it as lovely as everyone says?”

He smiles at her innocent enthusiasm.

“Well, like any city, it has its pleasant and unpleasant areas.  I’m quite fond of it, though.  I’d certainly recommend visiting if you ever have the opportunity.”

Issay can already envision taking this beautiful young woman there himself, showing her France as it’s meant to be seen.  Kaya would positively glow amid the colours of Paris, he is sure.  The cafés and boutiques and art galleries and bridges over the river would all thrill her.

“You must miss it terribly.”

Her soft voice cuts through his daydreaming.  He tilts his head to the side and studies her thoughtfully.

“You know, you’re the first person to suggest so since I’ve been back.  Everyone else has been saying how happy I must be to have returned.”

She frowns a little and shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t think so after ten years.”

“Yes, a decade _is_ a long time,” he agrees, touched by her sympathy.  “An hour ago, I certainly would have said that I miss Paris immensely.  But at the moment, I’m very grateful I returned to Japan when I did.”

The song has ended and another more up-tempo tune has begun.  As much as Issay would love to continue holding Kaya for the rest of the afternoon – for the rest of his _life_ , truthfully – he knows it’s time to step back before he causes a scandal.  There are far too many tongues to waggle; he won’t expose his precious soulmate to that.

And yet….

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

Surely he can justify a few more minutes in her presence that way.

Kaya casts a furtive glance toward her cousin.  Truthfully, she doesn’t like wine, but it’s a reasonable excuse to the world at large, even if Sara will probably interrogate her about it later.  And he’s not really going to notice if she only pretends to drink, is he?

“M-maybe a small glass,” she agrees.

He offers his arm, and she takes it the way she’s seen ladies in movies do.  Just being at his side makes her feel like an actress playing the heroine in some epic romance.  Where the world is perfect and true love always leads to a ‘happily ever after’.  How she’d like a ‘happily ever after’ of her own!

Issay greets the sommelier in rapid French, then turns to Kaya.

“What would you like?”

“I… w-whatever you’re having is fine.”

Issay sees at once that he’s made her self-conscious.

“My dear, forgive me,” he apologizes.  “I forget that _normal_ people are not obsessed with wine the way I am.  Do you prefer something sweet or dry?”

Her brow wrinkles a bit, unsure how a liquid can be ‘dry’.

“S-sweet, I think?”

His encouraging smile fills her stomach with butterflies.

“I should have guessed: a sweet wine for a sweet girl.”

He turns and addresses the sommelier again.

“L’crémant d'Alsace doux rosé.”

The man disappears below the bar for a moment then returns to view with a chilled bottle in hand, unwrapping the gold foil and uncorking it with a few deft motions.  He pours two champagne flutes of sparkling pink wine, handing the first to Kaya with a flourish.

“Signorina.”

She accepts it with a shy nod.  Issay takes his own glass and holds it slightly aloft.

“A toast,” he proposes, “To soulmates.”

The word has been said now.  Quietly, so that no one else can hear it.  Yet it reverberates through the air like the echo of a bell.

What a beautiful blush stains Kaya’s pale cheeks as she repeats his words.

“T-to soulmates.”

Their glasses clink together, and then she takes a tentative sip.  Her eyes widen in delighted surprise.  Issay loves how easily he can interpret her mood.

“Oh, it isn’t sour at all!”

“I made a good choice, then?”

She nods happily and takes another drink.

“Have you always been interested in wine?” she asks, rather annoyed with herself that she can’t think of anything cleverer to talk about.

He shrugs.

“I was more interested in the international business laws than the wine specifically.  At least at first.  These days, I’m as likely to bore people with one as the other.”

“I’m sure they’re both… very interesting,” Kaya offers.

 “No, they’re terribly dull to anyone not in the business,” Issay acknowledges with a laugh, “But thank you for humouring me.  Tell me about yourself.  Are you… passionate about anything in particular?”

The question take a drastic detour, as Issay realizes half-way through forming it that ‘Are you employed’ is an impertinent thing to ask a stranger even if that stranger _is_ one’s soulmate.  She seems to understand perfectly what he means.

“I’m in my last year at university – studying accounting, even though I really sort of hate it,” Kaya sighs.  “But Father… insisted that it would be a more financially-stable career than anything I actually _wanted_ to do.”

“Sometimes,” he observes cautiously, “Parents are so preoccupied with providing the necessities of life that they have a difficult time letting their children find their own paths.”

Kaya nods noncommittally.  She doesn’t want to tell her new soulmate that her father’s preoccupation isn’t with his children’s well-being but with the crumbling façade of ‘normal’ they’ve been existing behind since her mother’s death.  She sips the pink champagne and mulls over what she might say to change the topic.

“Y-you… must have attended university to study international business,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Issay senses the direction the conversation might be headed and braces himself for the unpleasant revelation.

“I did.”

“And… if you’ve been living in Paris for a decade….”

She wavers when she sees how solemn he’s become.

“You’re wondering about my age.  I’m thirty-seven this year,” he admits.  “Far too old for you, I dare say.”

“Of course not!” she exclaims impetuously.  “I’ll be twenty-two in July.  And anyway, age is only a number, isn’t it!”

She sounds far more confident than she feels.  Fifteen years is _quite_ a difference.  Still, she doesn’t like the idea of someone else deciding what counts as ‘too old’ for her.  She’s just working herself up to further set things straight when Sara appears at her elbow.

“We’re getting ready to leave, Ka-chan.  You still need a ride home with us, don’t you?”

Even though she’s speaking to Kaya, the remark is obviously aimed at Issay.

“Ah, please forgive me for detaining your cousin,” he offers with a bow toward Sara.

She gives a stiff nod.

“B-but….”

Hastily, Issay produces a business card and pen from an inner pocket, scrawling out his private number on the back.

“I’m sure your studies don’t leave you much free time,” he says, “But any time you _are_ willing to spare, I would love the chance to know you better.”

He hands the card to Kaya.

“No expectations.  And no obligations if you don’t enjoy my company.  Finding one’s soulmate is a precious gift, and I’m willing to be whatever part of your life you choose.  Even if what you decide you want is my absence.”

Kaya isn’t sure how to express what she wants.  She can’t really begin to imagine how she might manage to meet Issay again, and there’s no doubt in her mind that her father will never in a million years approve.  It’s all so terrifyingly uncertain.  Still, the thought of never seeing Issay again is physically painful.

“I… will try,” she promises him earnestly.

He snatches up her hand and presses a kiss to it.

“Mon ange,” he whispers.

“Come on!” Sara insists, grabbing Kaya by the forearm.

Kaya gives her soulmate one last blushing smile and a quick bow, then allows her impatient cousin to drag her toward the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** According to the Japanese wiki page for [Der Zibet](https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/DER_ZIBET), Issay was born in 1965 in Shizuoka prefecture, so that's what I've gone with here. His name kanji 藤崎一成 always seems to be translated "Fujiwara Kazunari", but apparently "Issei" is also a valid reading of his given name. So I’m going with that as his given name rather than as just a stage name, and am bowing to his preferred spelling convention.  
>  **2)** Kaya's name is allegedly 瓜生 達也, which has been translated [Kasei Tatsuya](http://visualkei.wikia.com/wiki/Kaya). If that's the case, he took the first and last syllables to make his stage name, which makes perfect sense. But in-story she wouldn't want to be called "Kasei Kaya" because that sounds... weird. So I've chosen an alternative reading for the family name kanji - Uryou. Kaya was born in 1980, so they are legit 15 years apart.  
>  **3)** Kaya's cousins are OC. Sara's name 冴咲 means "vivid blossom"; Hana is 一花 “one/first, flower”.  
>  **4)** Not that I expect anyone to notice, but I chose old-fashioned names for the old women at the beginning of the story. Think "Agnes" and "Mildred".


	2. I Thought about You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Billie Holiday recording of the [song](https://youtu.be/LlcayLOGdcY). Such a soulful voice....

Kaya lies on her sister’s bedroom floor, her feet tucked into the shadows of the storage boxes under Nomi’s bed.  Their father doesn’t usually come home before midnight on a Friday, but as sure as she leaves the shimmery pink toenail polish on display, today will be the day he changes his routine.  Kaya has always enjoyed having sparkly toes, even if she has to hide them, and being able to see the rainbow of colours to choose from makes everything ten times better.

She thinks of the reason this new spectrum has opened up for her – her soulmate.  So intriguing… and handsome.  The way his long hair fell in rippling curtains as he bent over her hand.  And that kiss.  The warmth of his breath, the gentle brush of lips on her skin sending an electric tingle through every nerve ending.  Kaya sighs and clutches that hand to her heart.

From across the room, Sara and Nomi, who are still finishing their own pedicures, glower at her.

“If you don’t stop sighing every five seconds like some love-sick school girl, I’m going to smother you in your sleep with a pillow,” Nomi threatens.

Kaya sticks her tongue out at them.

“I’m sorry; I just keep…”

“Thinking about your soulmate,” Sara finishes for her.  “How good-looking he is, and captivating, and blah blah blah.  We know.  He’s all you’ve talked about for the past two weeks.  Enough already!”

“Well, excuse me for being excited about it; not everyone _gets_ to meet her soulmate, you know!”

Nomi wrinkles her nose in distaste.

“I still don’t understand how you can be excited about having a creepy old man for a soulmate.”

“He is _not_ a creepy old man.”

“Fifteen years older, you said.  That makes him creepy!”

“You shouldn’t say things like that when you weren’t even there.  He was an absolute gentleman.  Wasn’t he, Sa-chan!”

Sara stares at her feet in exaggerated concentration.  She really doesn’t want to play referee in a sibling quarrel.

“He knew enough not to do anything stupid in front of Mother and Dad, at least,” she allows judiciously.

Kaya frowns up at the ceiling and tries to ignore the way her eyes have started to sting with unshed tears.

“Of all the people in the world, I really thought the two of you would be happy for me.”

Nomi rolls her eyes and says with the sort of world-weariness that only a teenager can manage:

“Don’t be like that, Nee-chan.  It’s not that we’re not happy for you.  We’re just… being cautious while you’re rushing headlong into falling blindly in love.  There _are_ some nice men in the world, but there are also a lot of pigs.  And it’s not always easy to tell at first which is which.  Especially in this sort of a situation with a much older man, who….”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Kaya interrupts, “His being older just means he’s going to have outgrown all of that stupid immature crap we normally have to deal with from guys our own age.  I mean, what twenty-year-old _boy_ would have even stopped to _consider_ whether his hand at my waist made me uncomfortable, let alone bothered to _ask_?”

Sara gives a small nod acknowledging Kaya’s point.

“His hold never strayed anywhere suggestive.  He didn’t _once_ try to catch a glimpse down my top.  And he gave me the _option_ of deciding when and if to continue meeting, rather than just assuming my answer would automatically be ‘yes’.”  Kaya’s voice gets louder the more defensive she becomes.  “What sort of ‘pig’ behaves like that!” 

“I take it this means you’ve decided to call him,” Sara cuts in.

Instantly, the wind goes out of Kaya’s sails.  She heaves another sigh and rolls over onto her stomach.

“I… no, I haven’t decided.  I _want_ to, but… I don’t know how I’m going to manage seeing him again without Father hearing about it and blowing a gasket.”

“A case of Suntory would go a long way,” mutters Nomi darkly.

Kaya throws a used cotton ball at her.

“I want Chichi to drink _less_ , not _more._ ”

“Uncle’s going to have to face facts sooner or later,” declares Sara.

Both Nomi and Kaya snort in ridicule.

“What?!  You can’t hide your soulmate’s existence for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t need to,” Kaya replies.  “Just until I graduate and move out.  Then Father can make good on all those threats to disown me, and it won’t matter.”

“Do you think Fujiwara-san will wait that long?”

“I wouldn’t if I were him,” Kaya admits.  “When I think about it that way, I can’t _not_ contact him.  But then, of course, if I _do,_ there’s also… the _other_ issue.  He’s clever enough I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner rather than later, and I just _know_ he’s going to be so disappointed when he realizes.”

Sara wiggles her blue and purple toes, her lips scrunched up the way she does when she’s contemplating very hard.

“You know, I think maybe…,” she says at last, “In _that_ aspect, you might be fine.”

Kaya’s “Howso?” and Nomi’s “Yeah, right!” collide in a jumble mid-air.

“You said he’s been living in Paris for more than ten years, right?”

Kaya nods.

“Well, he’s probably picked up all sorts of foreign habits.”

“Like drinking wine with breakfast and drenching himself in cologne?” jokes Nomi.

“Foreign _romantic_ habits,” clarifies Sara pointedly.  “The French are notoriously… open, aren’t they?  They’ll fall in love with anybody – male, female, both, neither.  Maybe the fact that your soulmate has been living in that environment for so long will make it easier for him to accept you the way you are.  If soulmates _are_ a thing, there must be a reason he’s yours.”

Kaya ponders on that point for a few minutes.  Soulmates _are_ a thing; she knows that for certain now.  Which means Sara is right.  There must be a _reason_ Fujiwara-san is hers: some inherent bond between them.  Is it too much to hope that he could learn to accept her?  And can she live with the regret of not knowing if she doesn’t at least try?

“Where’s the phone?”

~~~~

“Issay-san?  Issay-san!”

Issay comes out of his reverie with a jerk to find the junior associate staring at him in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, I… what was the question?”

“Do you want these invoices filed under the main distributor or sub-divided?”

“Group them by accounts payable,” Issay recommends.

Kenji sets to work shuffling through the drawers of the large metal filing cabinets.

“Someday we’ll keep all of these bills and receipts electronically and not have to mess about storing all this paper,” the young man optimistically predicts.

Issay hums in agreement, but he’s not really thinking about that marvellous paper-free future.

Two weeks.  Two _whole_ weeks, and Kaya hasn’t called yet.  He keeps reminding himself that his soulmate has her own life and obligations.  It’s important that she focus on her studies.  He promised her that he would wait as long as necessary, and he _will_.  But waiting _patiently_ is so difficult!  Particularly when the voices of doubt in his head grow louder with each passing hour.

She said she would _try_ to contact him.  That’s not the same thing as promising she _would_ contact him.  Maybe she only said that to be polite, to humour a pathetic old man so as not to embarrass him in public.  Perhaps sweet, beautiful, angelic Kaya finds him unappealing.  She wouldn’t be the first to think so, and it stands to reason, really.  Married ladies can protest as much as they like, but Issay knows that a man his age might as well have one foot in the grave to a university student.

Then again, maybe it’s Kaya’s family that disapproves.  The bride’s parents must have seen the two of them together, and the cousin – Sara was her name? – had been quite insistent about getting Kaya to leave with her.  They probably all think him some lecherous, predatory….

“Issay-kun!”

“What?”

This time it’s Ueno-san himself standing in the doorway.

“I see Kenji wasn’t exaggerating about your mooning around,” his employer half-chastises, half-teases.

“Please forgive me,” Issay replies hastily.  “I _am_ finding it difficult to concentrate today.”

“Today?  My boy, you’ve had a head full of sparrows since the wedding.  I suppose this means I owe my wife a new handbag.”

“H-handbag?”

Ueno-san produces a pipe from an inner suit pocket and begins packing it with tobacco from a small pouch.

“Wagered her a new handbag that it wasn’t your soulmate you’d been dancing with.”

“Ah, yes, well…” Issay mutters wryly, “Technically you _do_ owe her a new bag, then.  Uryou-san is my soulmate.”

“And this mood of yours means you’ve not spoken since.”

Issay shakes his head.

“I gave her my number to call, but we… didn’t have a chance to make any sort of definite plans before she had to leave.”

Ueno-san lights his pipe and tosses the match in the bin with a frown.

“That may be for the best.  After all, you’re not in France anymore.  Some… preferences that might have been… overlooked over there would still be… problematic for you here in Japan.”

 Issay is startled by such a declaration from his employer.  Ueno-san has never been the sort of man to offer comment on his employees’ personal lives.  In fact, he’s typically unreceptive to any topic of conversation not related to business.

“I’m not sure what you mean.  If it’s the age difference….”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ueno-san disclaims with a wave of his hand.  “A successful businessman ought to have a pretty young wife.”

“Is it… something to do with her family being of a higher class than mine?” Issay asks, even more perplexed.  “That’s a rather backward way of thinking in this day and age.”

“Nothing to do with it, my boy.”

“Then I really don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Ueno-san shifts uneasily from foot to foot.

“Not implying anything,” he blusters gruffly.  “Just… a friendly word of caution, that’s all.  Go home.  It’s well after hours, and I’m not paying overtime.”

He disappears into the corridor before Issay can question him further.

_How very odd._

Ueno-san certainly isn’t wrong about it being time to go home, though.  Issay glances at his watch and is surprised to find it well after 8 o’clock already.  There’s still so much he needs to do, but his lack of focus leads him to conclude that he should follow his employer’s instructions and start afresh on Monday. 

Issay tosses a few things into his briefcase, locks up his desk, and heads for the exit.  He considers stopping somewhere for dinner before going home, but the prospect of sitting and eating alone makes him more dissatisfied than ever.  No, if he’s going to mope, he might as well do it in his own house where he won’t disturb anyone. 

One long, crowded train ride and short, though uphill, walk later, Issay lets himself in through the front door of the small house he purchased upon his return.  It’s rather more modern in architecture than he prefers, but the location is good and the price was reasonable for how quickly he needed to move in.  He had been planning to look for something more to his tastes once he confirmed his return to Japan was permanent, but that was before he met Kaya. 

He doesn’t really have plans anymore; it doesn’t feel right to make plans that don’t take her desires into account.  After all, he wants to be part of her life, and she must have goals for the future too.  Preferences about where to live and work.  What she’d like a house she lives in to look like. 

Issay wonders what she’ll think of this house… if she ever sees it.  Will she find the minimalist design appealing?  Or will it be too stark for her?  They could brighten it up with some paint, he supposes, or tapestries.  A tad bohemian, maybe, but if done right, it can look very nice. 

He wanders into the room he’s been using as his study, drops his briefcase to one side, and goes to pour himself a glass of wine.  His thoughts are so wrapped up in his soulmate, food never occurs to him. 

If only she would call.  That’s all he wants.  Just to hear her voice again and know for certain she’s okay.  That she isn’t angry with him.  Or, gods forbid, hasn’t forgotten about him completely.  If only….

At that very moment, the telephone on his desk rings.  Issay nearly jumps out of his skin as he makes a fumbling grab for the receiver.

“Allô?” he answers hurriedly.  “Er… hai, this is Fujiwara Issay.”

There’s a long hesitant pause on the other end of the line, before a soft voice says:

“Fujiwara-san?”

Issay’s heart is pounding in his chest.

“Uryou-san?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Kaya-hime?” he tries again, remembering her request at the wedding reception that he use her given name.

Her breath catches.

“I-I’m… s-sorry to b-bother you.”

He can just imagine the innocent blush painting her cheeks.

“You’re no bother at all, my dear,” he assures her warmly.  “I’m so glad you called.”

“Really?”

He hears the shy smile in her voice, and it’s all he can do not to blurt out something sickeningly romantic. 

“ _Really_.  I can’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather talk to.”

Some might consider that flirting.  Fine.  He’s flirting with his soulmate.  Why shouldn’t he, so long as it doesn’t make her uncomfortable.

“I can’t talk long,” she apologizes, lowering her voice even further.  “My sister and cousin are eavesdropping, so….”

“I understand,” Issay responds with composure despite the let-down.  “Even a brief conversation with you is worth it.”

“I know it’s very last-minute, but I was wondering if you might have some free time tomorrow.”

Issay isn’t expecting that.  His discontentment vanishes at once.

“I have nothing at all to do tomorrow.”

He hasn’t; even if did have something scheduled, he’d cancel it for her.

“I-if you… still wanted to… get to know one another,” she starts again.

“Absolutely.”

He shouldn’t interrupt, but he doesn’t want his sweet soulmate to doubt for an _instant_ that he wants to see her.

“Well, there’s a little café near the university that claims to have authentic French pastries, and I thought… maybe we could… meet there and you could tell me whether that’s actually true.”

Issay thinks he might burst from the joy swelling within him.

“I would love that.”

There’s some faint rustling through the phone, as if she’s laid the receiver down somewhere.  After a few moments, she returns.

“I can give you the address if….”

“Ah yes, let me find a pen.”

He takes down the address carefully.

“What time?”

“I don’t… would one be too early?”

“One would be perfect.  I will see you then, Kaya-chan.”

“G-goodnight, Fujiwara-san.”

Issay doesn’t even care how abruptly the call cuts off.  _Tomorrow!_   He is going to see his soulmate tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** IRL, Kaya is supposed to have two older sisters and a younger brother. [Nomico](http://www.generasia.com/wiki/nomico) is a seiyuu and singer in her own right. For this story, I've shortened her name to 乃美 “from beauty” and made Kaya the older of two.  
>  **2)** [Suntory](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntory) is one of the big-name brands of beer in Japan. It's... not my favourite.


	3. Mam'selle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Dick Haymes version of the [song](https://youtu.be/VxNGEUXzeQc) (which is, IMO the best version ever).

Unfamiliar with the area of the city near the university campus and unwilling to take the slightest risk of being late, Issay leaves the house unnecessarily early and arrives at the café with more than an hour to spare.  He considers strolling along the rest of the street, taking in the various shops in order to burn off some of his excitement.  However, a huge clap of thunder suddenly booms out, and the heavens open in a torrential downpour.  Despite having an umbrella with him, he decides it’s much nicer to sit and observe a storm from a cosy café table than wander about in a deluge.

“Bon jour, monsieur,” the waitress greets him in mangled French.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle, comment allez-vous?”

The young lady’s face goes white in alarm, obviously having exhausted the whole of her French vocabulary with that single greeting.

“How are you?” he repeats so she can understand.

“Oh, f-fine, thank you!” she bows.  “Would monsieur like to order?  Today’s specials are caramel mousse, vanilla éclair, and strawberry macarons.”

“Just a green tea for now, please.  I’ll wait on the pastry until my soulmate arrives.”

How he loves that phrase!  _My soulmate_.  It sounds even better aloud than it does in his head.

The waitress smiles knowingly and nods.

“One green tea.  I’ll bring it right away.”

Issay quietly observes the distorted figures of the pedestrians through the panes of the rain-drenched windows.  All of the hard lines soften, shapes fading and blending together, like some living watercolour painting.  He gives a vague word of thanks when his tea is placed before him, attention focused on the people outdoors.  Waiting for that _one_ special person.  Wondering if he will recognize her without being able to properly see her face. 

He never finds out, because unbeknownst to him, the café has a second entrance on the opposite side.

~~~~

Kaya rushes along the pavement with the rest of the crowd, silently cursing herself for being _so stupid_ as to leave the flat without checking the weather first.  Earmuffs, gloves, and scarf do nothing to keep a body warm when they are soaked with icy rain.  At least her coat has kept the skirt she borrowed from Nomi dry, but her hair is absolutely saturated and dripping down her neck.  By the time she arrives at the café, she can barely stand upright, she’s shivering so violently.

She hurries toward the lavatory, hesitating only a moment before entering the ladies’ room.  She stands before the mirror, warm tears spilling down her frozen cheeks as she surveys her bedraggled appearance.

“I look like a drowned cat,” she mutters miserably.  “I should have known it was a mistake trying to meet him today.”

She takes the elastic band out of her hair and wrings the sodden strands out over the wash basin.  Using the dry tails of the scarf that were hidden under her coat, she wipes what she can of the water from her neck, then dabs at her smeared makeup with one of the thin paper towels.

 _Thanks goodness it’s waterproof mascara,_ she sniffs glumly as she shuffles out of the lavatory and back into the café itself.

Kaya notices her soulmate right away.  He’s seated near the corner staring out the window with the most eager, hopeful expression on his face.  It’s almost too much for her to bear.

_I’m going to be such a disappointment to him._

Nevertheless, she specifically asked him to meet her, so she can’t very well back out now.  That would be a horrible thing to do.  Cautious of leaving puddles on the floor, she walks over toward him.

“S-sorry I’m late.”

“Oh that’s perfectly… fine.”

He’s halfway to his feet before her dishevelled appearance registers.  Then, with a hastily exclamation of “Ah, mon pauvre petit!”, he whisks away her coat and drapes his own around her shoulders, pulling out a chair for her.

Issay waves the waitress over, asking in his most coaxing tone if she can’t manage to spare a towel from the kitchen for his poor, sweet soulmate so that she doesn’t catch a cold.  The girl agrees right away and scurries off, leaving Issay rubbing Kaya’s hands gently between his own to warm them.  Embarrassed though she is, Kaya finds she likes having someone fret over her the way her soulmate is doing.

“I th-think they’ve d- discredited the m-myth that g-getting wet c-causes people to c-c-catch cold.”

“Your argument would be far more convincing, my sweet, if your teeth weren’t chattering so much,” he laughs.  “At any rate, it won’t do you any _harm_ to warm up quickly.”

In minutes, the towel arrives, a hot cappuccino is ordered, and Issay has installed himself in the chair beside her rather than across the table.  Kaya doesn’t mind; having him close feels natural.  She’s struck anew by how very true all those stereotypes about soulmates are.

_It’s as if I’ve known him all my life._

As they sip their beverages, conversation flows easily between them.  They try the strawberry macarons, which Issay pronounces “quite similar” to the ones he’s had in France, to Kaya’s delight.  She tells him about her classes, her professors, her friends.  He talks about life in Paris and travel throughout Europe.  Of the difficult time he had making friends at first and the struggle over whether to agree to relocate to Naples or return to Japan.

“I suppose it will take me another decade to get back to speaking Japanese properly,” he laments.  “I didn’t notice I’d picked up an accent, but several of the other employees have mentioned since I’ve returned that they find it difficult to understand me.  So I’m working on correcting it.”

“No, you mustn’t!” Kaya exclaims, then tries to hide behind her coffee cup.  “I… think your accent is charming.”

Impulsively, he gives the back of her hand another kiss.

“Ma chère mademoiselle, vous êtes trop charmante pour les mots.”

“See, I have no idea what you said, but it sounds lovely,” she giggles.

He chuckles with her.

“I said ‘you are too charming for words’.”

“Ah.  I’m sure you say things like that to all the girls.”

She says it in jest, but there’s such an undercurrent of resigned acceptance that it makes Issay’s heart ache.

“I’m not flattering you, Kaya,” he tells her quietly.  “I know my manner can come off as… effusive sometimes, and I’m sorry if the way I speak makes it sound as if I’m exaggerating.  There are plenty of people who would give out false compliments, I know, but I’m not that sort of man.”

Kaya’s heart races with the intensity of his gaze.

“I-I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and gives her hand a brief squeeze.

“No need to apologize.  I understand why you’d be wary.  You don’t know what my personality is like yet.  I hope, in time, you’ll see my good intentions.”

She stares at her lap trying to find the words to explain to him how badly she _wants_ to trust him and the reasons she feels as if she doesn’t dare. Unfortunately, her thoughts are cut short by a small clock on the wall chiming four.

“Oh I hadn’t noticed it had gotten so late!” she gasps, hastily gathering up her nearly-dry coat and scarf.

Issay glances out the window.  The rain has slowed to a misty drizzle, the setting sun peeking out here and there between clouds, but she’s still going to be uncomfortably damp if she has to walk more than a block.

“I have an umbrella.  Let me walk you to the train station?”

The hopeful, eager look has returned to his face, and Kaya can tell at once that she’s going to have such a weakness for that expression.

“Only if it’s not an inconvenience,” she insists.

“My dear, how could spending time with you _ever_ be an inconvenience!”

So she lets him escort her to the train station, using the excuse of huddling together under the umbrella to press close to his side.  It’s not likely that anyone’s going to notice or care.  To the random observer, they are just like any other couple out on a weekend date in the rain.  Still, there’s always a _chance_ someone who knows her might see them, and if that happens, Kaya would rather have an excuse at the ready.

Issay is tempted to put his arm around her to shield her further from the weather but concludes after a few moments’ thought that she’s probably not ready for that.  He detects apprehension in the way she’s constantly glancing around at the passers-by, and tries not to read too much into it or speculate as to why.  He doesn’t want to spoil the wonderful day with doubts.

“Thank you so much for spending the afternoon with me,” he murmurs to her as they wait.  “I had a wonderful time.”

 _They are so wrong,_ Kaya thinks to herself over and over.  _Nomi and Sara are so wrong about him._

“I did too,” she replies.

“You should take the umbrella.  You’ve already had a chill once today.”

 “But then _you_ won’t have an umbrella,” she reasons.  “What if the storm keeps up all week?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll buy another.  Or you can return this one to me next time.  If…,” he hesitates. 

He doesn’t want to seem impatient or push her toward something she’d rather not pursue.  He also doesn’t want her to mistake him for being indifferent.

“Yes?”

“ _If_ you’re willing to see me again sometime.”

She nods, eyes shining with happiness.

“Same time next week?”

~~~~

Ueno-san’s prediction proves true.  Love _does_ bloom along with sakura this spring.  Not a fleeting sort of love, blossoming beautifully one moment then blown away in the breeze the next.  No, this is a love that puts down roots.

Issay meets Kaya every Saturday afternoon in the café.  They have coffee and sample the macaron flavour du jour.  (Kaya likes them all except the lemon, which she proclaims too sour.)  When the weather is mild enough, they order their treat to-go and walk through the park nearby, watching the leaves on the trees unfold and the sharp green spikes of the early spring flowers poke through the ground.

The more time they spend together, the more Kaya finds herself opening up to her soulmate beyond cursory introduction to the more serious aspects of her life that she doesn’t share even with Sara, whom she’s known since they were born.  She talks about the devastation they all felt at her mother’s death from breast cancer and helplessness watching her father turn to alcohol in his grief.  She reveals the regrets she has, bending to her father’s will on her course of study, and the dread of spending the rest of her life stuck in a career she hates just because it “makes good money”.

It’s a relief to her to have the perspective of a disinterested outsider.  Since Issay isn’t emotionally invested in the situations, she finds it easier to tell him about them.  And best of all, he actually _listens._   He lets her talk herself out completely rather than interjecting his own opinions.  Only when she’s finished does Issay offer empathy or advice, telling her about his own experiences – how he felt many of the same anxieties and frustrations when he was her age.  Never in that condescending way her uncle has of depicting the past as so bleak and full of hardship that “kids these days don’t know how easy they have life”.  What’s more, unlike her aunt or father, Issay never _tells_ Kaya what she ought to do.  He makes gentle suggestions and finishes each serious discussion of the future with “I’ll support you no matter what you choose to do.”

Unconditional support.  Unconditional love. 

Kaya can’t help falling for Issay, who positively worships her in return.  He’s not afraid to admit now that he’d been disheartened about starting from scratch in Japan, rebuilding from the ground up what he already had so comfortably crafted for himself in France.  Now, the idea of making a new life thrills him because he won’t be building it alone.

He still keeps these thoughts to himself.  Kaya is young and has a bright future ahead.  He’s definitely going to wait until after she has graduated and probably until she’s settled into a career before ‘popping the question’ as the saying goes.  Even so, he has already decided that if her answer is ‘yes’, he’s going to suggest a honeymoon in Paris.

 

“You’re very quiet today,” Kaya observes as they stroll arm in arm through the park.

Hanami is over, but there are still a few late-blooming plum trees shedding their delicate petals over the wide concrete steps down to the river walk.  It’s one of Kaya’s favourite spots.

“I’m sorry, my sweet.”

“Missing home again?” she asks.

“Not today.  This is one aspect in which Japan always surpassed France.  Springtime in Paris always made me nostalgic for umemi.”

“Then I’m glad we can enjoy it together.”

“So am I, Kaya,” he replies sincerely.  “Though, if we _were_ in Paris…”

He allows the thought to trail off, worried it’s still too soon to say such things.

“If we were in Paris?” she repeats.

Perhaps he shouldn’t, but Issay decides to take the risk.

“Paris _is_ the city of love.  No one thinks anything of publicly displaying affection.  If we were there, I might kiss you.”

Kaya’s hold on Issay’s sleeve tightens, and she presses her cheek against his shoulder.

“I-if we were in Paris, I might _let_ you kiss me,” she admits, and then realizing that the area is deserted for the moment, she impulsively adds, “I… might just let you kiss me anyway.”

Issay turns to face her, not quite believing his ears.

“You would?”

She nods, and though her cheeks are bright pink, she meets his gaze without hesitation.  He cups her face in his hands, lightly stroking over the silky skin with his thumbs.

“Are you sure?”

His hesitation emboldens her; she leans closer, rising up on her toes to be nearer his height.

“Yes,” she whispers.

Issay presses his lips to hers softly, reverently.  An act of worship she accepts with a sigh of contentment so sweet it drives the memory of every other kiss from his mind.

“Ma chérie,” he murmurs.  “My sweet, precious girl.”

He longs to take her in his arms, to kiss her over and over, and to show her what words alone will never be enough to express – how very deeply he adores her.  The middle of a public park is _not_ the appropriate place for that, however, so very reluctantly, he steps back with one last caress to her cheek.  The briefest glimmer of doubt flashes in her eyes when he does, so he brushes a peck to the back of her hand and, rather than releasing it like he usually would, intertwines their fingers.

“Come.  Let’s see if the cygnets have hatched yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** I make no promises about the French in this chapter. I tried my best, but I know very basic phrases only.  
>  **2)** Apparently [umemi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanami) is something the older generations prefer to hanami. Issay preferring plum blossoms to cherry is just another way he's rather old-fashioned.


	4. All the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is the Nat Cole version of this great [classic](https://youtu.be/OMfGLHvE6h8).

Issay floats through his Saturday evening meal, replaying that kiss again and again in his mind, absentmindedly humming snatches of old love songs, and generally feeling himself the luckiest man alive.  The world is full of colour, and he is unapologetically besotted.  He dreams of next weekend – what they might say and do.  If perhaps Kaya might like to explore the city with him now that the weather is warmer.  Whether she will let him kiss her again.

Just after 10 o’clock, the telephone rings.  He puts down the book he’s been pretending to read and makes his way over to the desk to answer, sure that it must be his soulmate.

“Bonsoir.”

The heavy, tearful sniff on the other end makes his blood run cold.

“Kaya.  Hime, what’s wrong?”

“I’m s-sorry.”

Issay’s mind immediately jumps to what he considers the worst case scenario.  She regrets the kiss.  She’s called to end things with him for good.  She never wants to see him again.

“I’m so sorry to bother you this late; I know you’re probably already in for the night but I didn’t know who else to call because if I call Sara, then Auntie and Uncle will get involved, and they’ve already put up with so much from me and Nomi since Mother died, and I know they get tired of it even though they’d never say so because we’re family, but….”

Issay loses track of what’s being said after ‘didn’t know who else to call’ amid the rapid, sob-laden speech, but it doesn’t _really_ matter because that phrase is enough to start his heart beating again in his chest.

_Not a mistake.  Not a regret.  Not an end._

“Darling, it’s fine that you’ve called me.  You know I’d do anything in the world for you.  I’m glad you trust me this much.  Please, Sweetheart, just… take a deep breath, and tell me where you are.”

There are a few more shuddering gulps before she manages:

“A-at the corner conbini.”

“You’re using a payphone?”

She makes a humming sort of agreeing noise.

“Okay.  Give me the cross-streets, and I’ll come meet you.”

“A-are you sure?  I know it’s late, and….”

“I’m absolutely sure.  I’ll come right away.”

Kaya gives him the street names and the general neighbourhood.  Issay has never been there, but since he’ll be taking a taxi, it hardly matters.

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can, Precious.  Wait right there.”

Hastily he grabs his wallet and a jacket, and rushes out the door.  Fortunately, there’s a taxi stand next to the train station; within minutes, he’s found a willing driver familiar with the area and is speeding toward her.

_What could have her so upset?_ he worries.  It must be something very serious.  Kaya hasn’t rung him up once since that first evening, and she isn’t the sort to fake a crisis to gain attention.  Her neighbourhood isn’t terribly far, yet every second on the road is torturous for him. 

“There it is,” the driver indicates the upcoming intersection.  “Where should I drop you?”

Issay scans the area, pointing toward the 7-Eleven

“There, I guess.  Will you wait?  You can leave the meter running.”

The driver gives an indifferent nod as he pulls up to the curb.  With a grateful smile, Issay jumps from the vehicle, leaving the door open, and hurries toward the brightly-lit building, searching this way and that for the payphones.  He’s not on the sidewalk more than a few seconds before Kaya dashes out the door straight into him, burying her face against her chest and weeping.  He holds her close, soothingly stroking her hair.

“It’s all right, Sweetheart.  I’m here now.”

Kaya tries to pull herself together quickly so she won’t cause a scene.  As she wipes the tears with her sleeve, Issay notices a dark-ish bruise has started to form on her left cheekbone.  He’s taken a punch or two in his lifetime, and he immediately recognizes the precursors of a black eye.  That _anyone_ would raise their hand to his soulmate has Issay’s temper spiking, but he does his best to ignore the anger for now, because it’s not what Kaya needs.

“I have a taxi waiting, Kaya-chan, so we can go wherever you’d like.  I was going to suggest a quiet family restaurant, but perhaps you’d prefer somewhere private.”

Kaya gives him a watery smile.

“Yes, please.  I’d rather not be stared at.”

He takes his jacket off and wraps it around her shoulders.  She draws it tightly around herself and leans toward him, silently asking for another hug, which he immediately gives her.

“Would you think me very bad-mannered if I suggested my own house?”

“I’d never think you were bad-mannered,” she mutters.

He places an affectionate kiss on the top of her head and then escorts her across to the awaiting vehicle.  Without a word, she curls up against his side on the seat and lets her eyes fall closed.  Once or twice, a tear escapes from beneath her lashes, but the sobs have subsided for the moment.

The taxi stand isn’t all that far from the house, but Issay doesn’t see the sense of making Kaya walk, so he gives the driver his home address.  When they pull into the driveway, her curiosity temporarily distracts from the sorrow.  She stands at Issay’s side examining with interest what she can of the exterior in the orange glow of the nearby streetlight.

“It’s… not quite the sort of place I imagined you living,” she offers as he unlocks the door.

He smiles.

“It’s not quite the sort of place I envisioned either, Dearest, but it’s what was available when I was looking to buy.  Should I put the kettle on?”

Kaya makes an apathetic sort of gesture, but since Issay decides she may need some ice for her blackening eye, he heads toward the kitchen anyway.

“Make yourself at home,” he suggests.  “The sitting room is through the door to your left, but you’re welcome to look around as much as you’d like.  The decorations are a bit lacking, I’m afraid.”

She finds the light switch to the sitting room and tiptoes in.  Issay obviously wasn’t exaggerating about sparse décor.  There are the basic larger pieces of furniture – sofa, table, chair, and lamp – but none of the smaller pieces that make a room homey.  No art hung on the wall, no plants, no curtains or blinds over the windows.  With a frown, Kaya turns off the overhead light and switches on the lamp instead.  Issay has seen the black eye; there’s no escaping that, but perhaps dimmer lighting will make it less noticeable.

“I thought a nice green tea might be a good choice this late in the evening.”

Issay enters the room and sets a tea tray on the nearby table.

“I hope that’s all right with you.”

He barely has time to stand upright before she’s wrapped herself tightly around him again.

“Mon ange,” he murmurs, drawing his arms around her.

Issay never expected that the first time he’d get to really hold his soulmate would be as she cries, but he accepts that reality and offers her all the comfort he can provide: murmured words of affection and tender caresses.  Somehow, they find themselves curled together on the sofa, Kaya _almost_ but not _quite_ sitting in his lap, her unbruised cheek pressed to his heart.

“When you are ready to tell me what happened, I’ll listen,” Issay promises.

 

The tea has long gone cold before she feels composed enough to speak.

“One of Father’s friends saw us together today.  Whoever it was told him that we… that I kissed you, and Father….”

Issay struggles to keep his voice neutral as he asks:

“It was your _Father_ who hit you?”

“He’d been drinking… _again_ ,” she says as if that’s some form of justification.  “He probably won’t remember half of the horrible things he said when he sobers up in the morning.  _If_ he sobers up in the morning.  But for the time being, he’s kicked me out, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing calling me,” Issay assures her.  “I really am _so_ glad you trust me that much.  But what about your sister?  Will she be safe there by herself?”

“You’re so thoughtful.  I’m sure she’ll be fine; she always is.”

“Always.  Meaning he’s hit you before?”

Kaya doesn’t want to answer that, so she snuggles closer and waits for the tears to subside again.  Issay gives her a few moments to calm before asking:

“Do you know why he reacted so violently to my kissing you?”

Several possibilities flit through his mind, particularly when Kaya goes very still in his arms.

“Promise you won’t hate me.”

She sounds so small and frightened he can scarcely endure it.

“My sweet darling,” Issay kisses her silky hair, “I couldn’t _possibly_ hate you.”

Kaya doesn’t know whether she can rely on that.  Of course he believes that now, but will he still feel the same way once he learns what she’s been hiding from him?

_If soulmates are a thing, there must be a reason he’s yours._

She screws up her courage and tells him.

“Father hit me because he thinks his son having a male soulmate is disgraceful.”

Issay doesn’t know what to make of that statement.  _What son?  Kaya doesn’t have a brother, does she?_

“My birth name isn’t ‘Kaya’, you see,” she continues.  “Mother named me ‘Kazuya’… because I was born in a male body.”

“Oh.”

Even with that explanation, Issay still can’t comprehend why a man would strike his child over a simple kiss.  After all, a person can’t select the gender of her soulmate any more than she chooses her own.  Such an erratic temper is dangerous, and Issay loathes the idea of his beloved Kaya returning to that sort of toxic environment.

_What can he do to protect her?_

Kaya suddenly draws back, indignation on her tear-stained face.

“Is that all you have to say?  ‘Oh’?”

“What’s disgraceful is his hitting you; he had no right!”

She pouts up at him, and Issay finds it difficult to keep from kissing those gorgeous, full lips.

“I mean about _me_ , not Father.”

His confused frown has her shaking her head in frustrated disbelief.

“Here I’ve been worrying myself sick for _months_ over telling you about myself, and all you say is ‘oh’?!”

His remorse is obvious straightaway.

“My dearest girl, I didn’t mean to sound dismissive.  It’s just… your gender makes no difference to me.  You’re my soulmate, and I’d love you as a male, female or anything in between.  Still, I can see now that you’ve been agonizing over whether I’d accept you, and I’m deeply sorry that you had even the slightest doubt.”

“I don’t _mean_ to doubt you,” she offers contritely.

He stares down into those dark eyes looking up at him so openly.  This time, Issay simply can’t help himself.  He kisses her, gently so it won’t hurt her bruised cheek too much, but deeply and sensually, teasing apart her lips with his tongue.  Losing himself in the melody of each gasp and whimper as she quivers at his touch.

_I love you._

_I love you more._

_Please don’t ever leave me._

_I could never._

 

Late night becomes early morning.  The flame of desire continues to smoulder between them but is eventually tempered by fatigue.  As much as it irks her, Kaya has to stop kissing her soulmate because she can’t disguise her yawns any longer.  Issay doesn’t mind, showering her cheek and jaw with kisses instead.

“You must be tired, Precious.  Shame on me, keeping you awake so late.”

“Maybe it’s me that’s been keeping _you_ awake.”

“Perhaps,” he allows with a smirk.  “Nevertheless, I should let you get some sleep.  You are welcome to the guest room, although…,” he pauses.  “I’m probably being too old-fashioned for worrying that you staying here overnight might cause a scandal, aren’t I?”

“The only person besides my sister who knows I’m here is the taxi driver,” she yawns again behind her hand.  “I doubt he will go spreading rumours.”

“Then you can have the guest room,” he repeats.  “Unless you’d rather have the master suite, and I’ll take the guest room.  Or I can leave you the house and go find a hotel if you’d feel safer.”

“I most certainly would _not_ feel safer sleeping alone in a strange house!” she rejects with a shake of the head.  “And kicking you out of your own room?  Absolutely not.  I’ll need to borrow something to sleep in if you don’t mind, but other than that, your guest room will be just fine.”

He cocks his head to one side and thinks.

“I wonder if I have anything small enough that it won’t fall right off of you.  I _mean_ ,” he gasps at the unintended innuendo, “Come upstairs, and I’ll see what I can find!”

The implication of his words isn’t lost on Kaya, but she finds his reaction too funny to be self-conscious.

_My soulmate really is such a gentleman_ , she thinks as she follows him up the staircase.

“The washroom is here, and you’ll find towels and extra blankets here in the linen cupboard,” he points them out as they pass.  “Mine is the room just across the landing if you need anything during the night.  Here is the guest room.”

He enters before her and surveys the room for a moment, assuring himself she has everything she might need.

“I’ll be right back.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, testing it.  The mattress is new and a bit stiff, and the bed makes a soft creaking beneath her.  The rest of the room is empty.  In a way, it’s almost surprising that Issay bothered to buy a spare bed at all.  She wonders who he intended it for.  He said he has no siblings.  A friend visiting from France maybe?  Or a lover?  But no, a lover would share his bed, wouldn’t they?

_Would they?  You’re in here._

Issay appears a moment later with a handful of dark blue silk.

“This kurta hits me about the knee, so it will probably be a nightdress for you.  You’ll definitely need to roll the sleeves, but I think it should fit your shoulders and hips comfortably.  There are also trousers if you think you might get cold.”

He holds them out toward her so she can see the garments properly.

“That should be fine,” she says, taking them from him.  “Thank you.”

“If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to tell me.” Issay brushes a kiss across her forehead.  “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

When she hears the washroom door close, Kaya quickly puts out the light and changes out of her jeans and hooded sweatshirt into the silk pyjama tunic Issay has given her.  As predicted, the sleeves are quite long; she has to roll the cuffs back several times in order to free her hands.  She sits down on the edge of the bed again, taking in the room with the lights off.  It’s a perfectly ordinary room; yet, by herself in the darkness after hours spent in her soulmate’s arms, she is overcome by a sudden wave of loneliness.

The door to the washroom opens, and she can hear Issay’s bare feet on the floor as he passes along the dark corridor toward his room. 

_He did say to ask if she needed anything.  Does she dare?_

After a bit of hesitation, she eases herself off the bed and tiptoes out along the passage until she’s standing just beyond the threshold.  Issay is putting his laundry in the hamper and turning down the covers; Kaya watches him, eyes roaming longingly over his bare chest and arms.  It’s a few moments before he notices Kaya silhouetted in the doorway.

“My dear.  Is anything wrong?”

She doesn’t reply, but he can see the hem of the kurta quivering as if she’s shivering.  Or crying again.  Instantly, he’s at her side, enfolding her in his embrace.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she mumbles against his skin.

Now isn’t the time to question propriety.  His soulmate needs him, and that’s all that matters.

“Of course,” he replies and leads her gently to his bed.

In spite of their height difference, she fits against him perfectly, tucked warm and secure at his side.

_Because she was made to be there_ , he concludes.  _Made to be mine as I was destined to be hers._

Kaya drifts off to sleep in his arms almost at once, but Issay lies awake into the early hours of the morning when the first rays of sunlight tinge the clouds pink and purple.  Having her here like this, entwined with him, waking up each morning to her sweet face… that’s something he could get very used to.

His soulmate is a precious gift.  One that Issay is going to do everything in his power to shelter and provide for.

“Je t'aime de tout mon cœur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** Again, taking artistic liberties with given names. It's not quite Tatsuya 達也, but Kazuya 一也 does use one of the same kanji, and explains how she derived her name now.  
>  **2)** The kurta I had in mind is styled something like [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c4cc1852c8715af5c2fb9517a89bb6bf/tumblr_pm0xcrVWJc1t1g7g5o1_540.jpg), but in [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/79adc433babbff87489d2f6aa995951a/tumblr_pm0xcrVWJc1t1g7g5o2_540.jpg) darker blue.


	5. Where or When

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title brings us full circle back to Ella Fitzgerald and another [classic](https://youtu.be/iyfWlX9Dv2k). Since the words seem to fit the idea of reincarnation and soulmates, it seemed appropriate.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Nomi declares as she opens the door to let Kaya and Issay into the flat.

“And I still didn’t ask for your opinion,” retorts Kaya as she pushes her way past.  “Is he here?”

“Passed out and snoring.  I shoved your textbooks and whatnot into your knapsack, but anything else you want, you’ll have to pack yourself.”

Kaya hurries toward her bedroom to gather her belongings, but Nomi stands stubbornly blocking Issay’s way.

“This is your fault, you know,” she reproaches, hands on her hips.

Kaya warned him before they arrived that Nomi isn’t thrilled about the idea of Kaya moving in with her soulmate, so Issay isn’t surprised by this open hostility.

“Depends entirely on what you mean by ‘this’,” he replies evenly.  “I will not shoulder any blame for your father’s drunken abuse; the guilt for that lies entirely with him.  If you mean Kaya finding the courage to move out and leave the violence behind, well, I think that’s giving me far too much credit and her far too little, but I can accept your allegation.” 

“It’s not the moving out I have a problem with.  I just think it’s awfully convenient that you just _happen_ to have a spare room free right when she needs it.”

“Nomi-san,” Issay addresses her formally and gravely.  “I understand that you have as little reason to trust me as Kaya did when we first met, and that from your perspective it may appear that I’m taking advantage of your sister in a moment of vulnerability, but nothing could be further from the truth.” 

“Why should I believe you?” she hisses.  “My sister has already been through enough bullshit for one lifetime.  She deserves better than you.”

“Yes, she _has_ been through far more than any person should have to endure,” he agrees.  “And she _absolutely_ deserves better than me.  There isn’t a man on the planet who is worthy of her.”

Nomi snorts in disdain.

“Even so, I love her with all of my heart.  I don’t know what the future holds, so I can’t guarantee that her life will always be carefree and easy, but I swear to you while there is breath in my lungs and blood in my veins, no one will hurt her ever again.  Not me.  Not your father.  Not even _you_ , with your sharp tongue. She deserves a loving, supportive family, not one that tries to break her spirit.”

Nomi eyes her sibling’s soulmate warily, a hint of uncertainty bleeding through the antagonism.  Issay steps nimbly around her and follows his soulmate into her room.

“Nearly finished,” Kaya greets him with a smile.

He views the single suitcase and four boxes with surprise.

“Already?” he enquires doubtfully. “Are you sure this is all you want to bring, Sweetheart?  There’s no need to rush; if you need more time, I’m happy to stand guard.”

She shakes her head.

“Books and CDs.  Some knickknacks and photos.  There really isn’t much here I want.  Half the clothes in my wardrobe I won’t ever wear because they’re too boyish.  I’ve only kept them because….”

“Because Chichi’s an asshole,” says Nomi from the doorway.

“Could you stop cursing in front of my soulmate?” Kaya scolds.  “Issay-san is going to think Mother and I didn’t teach you any manners.”

“I would never think such a thing, Precious.”

Nomi watches shrewdly from the door as Kaya collects everything she wants from her childhood bedroom, and Kaya’s soulmate dutifully helps as much as he can.  She observes the way they seem to synchronize together without the slightest effort, how gentle and attentive he is toward Kaya without any hint of it being merely a show put on for Nomi’s benefit.  She also notes the way Kaya radiates calm and contentment with him nearby, so at odds with the anxious strain that usually saturates the atmosphere after one of their father’s rampages.

 _Maybe,_ Nomi begrudgingly allows, _he isn’t a pig after all._

 

Soon after, Kaya and Issay return to the genkan for their shoes, each carrying a bag and a pair of boxes.

“I think that’s everything, but if I remember anything else, I’ll call you,” Kaya gives her sister last-minute instructions.  “If _you_ need anything, I’ve left the number and address in the Typhoon Generation jewel case.  Don’t give either one to Father under _any_ circumstance.”

“Like I would,” Nomi rolls her eyes. 

“You don’t need to tell Auntie or Sara about any of this either.  I will let them know myself in a day or two.” 

“You know that the moment Sa-chan finds out, she’s going to want to have a sleep-over,” warns Nomi.

“You are both welcome at any time,” Issay declares before Kaya can protest. “Particularly you, Nomi-san.  If you ever feel the slightest bit unsafe here, please don’t hesitate to come over.”

Nomi shakes her head, but bids her sister’s soulmate a much more civil farewell.

 

“I’m sorry you had to put up with her attitude,” sighs Kaya as she puts the last box on the back seat of the small automobile Issay borrowed for the afternoon from his employer.

“No apologies, Dearest.  She may have a brusque manner, but it’s all motivated by concerned for your happiness.”

“ _You_ are what makes me happy; I don’t know why she can’t see that.”

“She will in time, I’m sure.”

He opens the car door for her and gives her a peck on the cheek as she gets in.

“Now, is there anywhere else you want to stop?  Anything you’d like to buy for the house?”

Kaya leans back against the headrest and ponders.

“Some curtains would be nice, at least in the bedrooms.  But we’ll need to measure first to be sure we get the right size.  And I wouldn’t want to leave all of these things sitting in a parking garage while we went shopping, so no.  Not today.  Let’s just go home.”

 _Home_.

Yes, that’s the right word for it.  She isn’t even officially moved in yet, and already Issay’s small drab house has started to feel like ‘home’.

For both of them.

Issay reaches over and takes her hand in his, pressing a kiss to it as he waits for the traffic light to change.

“All right, Sweetheart.  We’ll go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1)** Typhoon Generation was a single by Arashi, who debuted in 1999. I figure that teenage Nomi would be a fan.  
>  **2)** If I let them, these two would have dragged this story out to the honeymoon and beyond. But this is where I'm going to end it. For now. Thank you for reading!


End file.
